


Velveteen

by Broken_Clover



Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Gift Fic, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22903075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Clover/pseuds/Broken_Clover
Summary: King Daryl's gardening is interrupted by an odd guest
Relationships: Daryl/Venom (Guilty Gear)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Velveteen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MamaNana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaNana/gifts).



> A gift for Nana, though it is a bit late. I hope it still brings you joy.

Daryl had been busy watering the flowerpots when he heard something thump against the window. He glanced up from the begonias he had been handling and let the metal watering can rest on the table.

“Hello?”

It took him a good moment to process where the sound had come from, and when he’d realized, he winced. It hadn’t been someone knocking on the door for his attention, something had crashed.

It wasn’t uncommon for birds to bump into the windows- the castle was very tall, after all, and with lots of windows. Daryl wasn’t a stranger to seeing a stunned bird pick itself up out of the courtyard and attempt a second try to escape the high walls. Or, in less fortunate cases, a pile of twisted limbs and feathers sitting in a lifeless lump on the grass.

With a morbid sense of curiosity, he approached the window and pushed it open, careful to keep the window box from coming loose and falling. He stuck his head out to look down into the courtyard several stories down, but found nothing.

Nothing? Maybe he just wasn’t looking hard enough? He craned his neck further, tucking a strand of strawberry-blonde hair out of his eyes for a clearer view. Still nothing. No birds. Nothing in the grass, or in the air. 

That was odd. Daryl asked himself if he really cared about such a small thing. If he couldn’t see anything, then there was no point messing around when he could have been finishing up with his plants and enjoying his break.

With that thought, he pulled back into the room, grabbing one of the handles to close the window. As he did, though, something sparkled in his peripheral vision, making his head turn.

There was something small sprawled out in the window box, half-hidden under the magnolias.

“What?” Had it fallen in when it crashed? He hadn’t considered the possibility. As gingerly as he could manage, Daryl pushed aside a few flowers, making sure to lean away just in case a frantic bird burst out and began pecking at whatever it could reach.

But it wasn’t a clumsy bird. Nor a squirrel, or even an insect. Instead, it appeared to be a tiny man, clad in torn clothing, with a pair of beautiful blue-and-silver wings sprouting out of his back.

Daryl recoiled at the sight, stumbling back into the room and drawing upon his magical reserves to put up a shield. A faerie? He’d never heard anything about appearances in Illyria’s capital. A single, solitary fae wasn’t overwhelmingly powerful, but their magic and tricks could still prove dangerous, especially around unwitting victims.

When no attack came, he inched towards the window again. Through the translucent blue of his protective barrier, he peered over the windowsill, only to find the tiny figure still lying in the same position. Risking a closer look, his eyes were definitely closed.

Had it crashed into the window? It would have explained the noise, but Fae were supposed to be expert fliers. How had it managed to-

Something new caught Daryl’s attention. What he’d believed was just a part of the intricate pattern was actually a long, thin tear, cutting through the swirls of color. So it was no wonder, then. He couldn’t imagine anything being able to fly straight with a chunk of wing missing. 

Daryl hesitated for a moment. He’d heard stories about trickster fae, feigning injuries to attract well-meaning humans who let their guards down and made themselves open to attack. But this one was clearly injured, and if it couldn’t fly right, then there wasn’t much hope for him to escape the box to safety while several stories in the air.

“You’re turning into a bleeding heart, Daryl…” He chastised himself, but nonetheless scooped up the tiny creature, who didn’t even stir at being moved. The sheer smallness didn’t help the image of him being weak and helpless, but Daryl did his best not to lower his guard. After a bit of searching, he found a clean spare towel. He lowered the faerie down onto it, careful to avoid hurting his wings any further.

“Paper, paper...I know I’ve got glue somewhere…” With his hands free, he began digging around in the various cabinets and desk drawers in search of supplies. He made sure to glance up every so often to make sure his companion hadn’t moved, but he never did. Daryl found the supplies he was looking for, and brought them back to the table.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.” He mused, meticulously cutting out a long, thin strip of paper. “Hopefully I remember how to do it right.”

He’d never used it on faeries, either, which was an additional spanner in the works. Their wings appeared to be quite similar to a butterfly’s, but he could only hope that the same rules would apply. There weren’t exactly guides on caring for fae; if it was known information, he doubted anyone would be willing to risk testing it out. He was completely on his own. 

Damn it, he knew it was a stupid idea. He was supposed to be the pragmatist; the one who made the wisest decisions even if they weren’t the most altruistic. So why did he feel so insistent on something he had no reason to believe wouldn’t hex him as soon as he tried to do anything?

He simply tried not to overthink it. A small bit of glue was scraped out of the bottle with a toothpick, which he spread onto one side of the paper. Using one hand to carefully lift the injured wing, he used the other to pick up the sticky paper, line it up with the cut, and press it down over it.

When he was sure that the glue had dried enough and that his makeshift splint wasn’t going to move, Daryl sat down in his chair and gave a relieved sigh. That was the most pressing issue dealt with. Putting him back outside while unconscious meant he would just be easy prey for birds, so that wasn’t an option. He couldn’t even be sure of what state the creature would be in when it woke up-

Oh, maybe that was a good place to go next. Maybe he should try and give him some food to regain energy. But what did fae eat? He did know a few tidbits about butterfly care, it seemed like a decent place to start. 

Which meant sugar. Lots of it.

++++++

Venom immediately noticed the soft-yet-scratchy texture pressed against him, and just as immediately decided he didn’t like it.

In his half-conscious state, he managed to get on his hands and knees. Maybe a weird leaf had fallen into his tree hollow. It was as good a wake-up call as anything. He knew he needed to head out soon, it was much safer to travel during the day when there was no need to worry about raccoons, or anything else that would treat him as a quick snack.

As his spotty vision cleared, he realized that it wasn’t a leaf at all. He appeared to have been lying on some peculiar beige-colored thing, not what he’d have expected to find in the forest-

Cold fear flooded his body. Looking around, he realized he hadn’t been in the forest at all. How had he wound up in a human building?! Forget raccoons, this was infinitely more dangerous. There were no humans in the room, but he couldn’t say if one would show up if he loitered. Leaving immediately was the best option.

Venom spread his wings, trying to summon a little extra magic to get off the ground quicker. But as soon as he tried, he felt a barren, empty reservoir. All of his magic reserves were depleted, leaving him flightless. How had that happened? He couldn’t remember anything...

The doorknob rattled. Venom felt all the blood leaving his face.

++++++

“Let’s see, hopefully one of these should do the trick.”

Daryl had been busy collecting various sweet things- fruit juice, sugar water, honey, and a chocolate chip cookie swiped off of a leftover tray from some meeting or another. Nobody had tried to interrupt him or give him anything more than a brief, puzzled look before going on their merry way. He wondered if he’d really gained a reputation for being peculiar or if they all had something better to do than ask. He’d really hoped that he would have been able to avoid that, compared to Leo, who seemed to enjoy the idea of being seen as boisterous and spontaneous, as long as it meant he was being seen in the first place.

His rambling thoughts came to a screeching halt at the sight of his faerie companion, now fully awake, teetering on the edge of his desk while looking at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“No, no, no!” Daryl found himself running. His eyes snapped between the faerie and to the pile of objects in his arms. Without thinking, he threw everything on the table, stumbling the rest of the way around the desk to cup his hands and catch the creature as it finally fell off the edge.

“Jesus...Jesus...That was close.” He brought him back up onto the towel, to which the faerie immediately scrabbled out of his hands and hurried off towards the other end of the table. “Wh- no!”

He managed to intervene far sooner the second time, circling the desk long before the small man reached the edge. Daryl held his arms out in an attempt to placate him. “Wait, wait, just wait, ok?”

It seemed that he’d managed to catch the fae’s attention. Daryl watched him tilt his head, still aversive but paying attention to what he was saying.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, alright? I know I probably seem big and scary, but I found you outside and brought you in so I could fix you up.”

He glanced back and forth, expression shifting in a way that showed his continued confusion. Daryl gestured to him. “Your wing. It was torn, so I-”

As soon as he spoke, the faerie recoiled with a look of panic. He looked over his shoulder, fluttering his wings and spreading them wide until he spotted the long bit of paper that had been pasted on. The king watched a tiny, shaky hand extend towards his injured wing in disbelief.

“Well, um, I also brought you some things to eat-”

Only after saying that did he realize, in the process of throwing everything to free his arms up, the table was now a sticky mess of sugary juice and honey.

“...of course.” Daryl covered his eyes with a hand. Just his luck.

It at least seemed to amuse his companion, who had been busy staring at his wings up until then. He apparently found the mishap amusing, and he began to laugh, sounding more like bells ringing than human laughter.

“At least you find it funny.” But Daryl couldn’t stop himself from smiling just a little, too. He retrieved another towel from a cabinet and threw it over the mess. “I’m definitely going to get questions about this, you know.”

He picked up the cookie as he wiped the table down, expecting it to fall apart into tiny wet chunks. Instead, to his surprise, it held up perfectly fine, with only a scant bit of honey splattered on the side. Daryl could hardly believe his luck.

“Lucky day for you then, little guy.” He abandoned the mess, going back to the desk. This time, the faerie had decided to stay in place. “Want to try some of this?”

The foodstuff seemed unfamiliar to him. Daryl sat down in his chair so they could be closer to eye level. The cookie was placed in between. “It’s a cookie. Human food is probably very big compared to what you eat, but that means there should be more than enough. It’s very good.”

He threw on the last bit as an attempt to assure the creature. The faerie stood up and slowly approached. He analyzed it from every angle, before giving it a tentative poke

Daryl briefly pondered if the small amount of salt in it would have a negative effect. If he remembered correctly, it worked on demonic creatures, but the fae were something else entirely. But if he could touch it just fine and didn’t recoil in pain, then that was a good sign.

There was something amusing about the fact that the cookie was larger than him. Choosing not to interrupt, Daryl only watched as the faerie attempted to break off a chunk, repeatedly failing to obtain more than a fair-sized crumb before growing frustrated.

“Here, need some help?” The king broke off a little piece about the size of the creature’s head. His gift was accepted with a curious smile, before a bite was taken out of it. Still no screams of pain. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the treat, especially the bit of chocolate baked into it.

“You certainly eat fast, don’t you?” Sure, it was tiny compared to Daryl, but trying to eat something the size of his own head would probably take him significantly longer. In minutes, the faerie had finished eating it all, and opted to look up at the human with expectant eyes.

Daryl reached for the rest of the cookie. “Would you like another piece? Here, let me-”

In the process of trying to break it again, it slipped right out of his grip. The cookie managed to land in his breast pocket, leaving him with nothing but a hand full of crumbs.

“Heh. Well, that was messy. Wait, what are you doing?”

In the blink of an eye, Daryl found himself acting as a climbing wall. Tiny fists grabbed at his shirt, ambling up his chest.

“You don’t have to do that!” He protested, cupping his hands again just in case he slipped and fell. “I can just take it out- !”

Maybe he didn’t understand, or maybe he was just stubborn. Either way, it was difficult not to find a little bit of amusement at the creature’s triumphant smile as he climbed right into his pocket to indulge in more sweets.

Daryl’s expression softened into fondness. He let his hand drift closer to his odd companion, using fixing his cravat as an excuse to let his hand get close enough to pat the faerie on the head. But instead of an irritated grumble or a frightened squeal, the noise was almost a contented hum.

“Did you like that?” He offered a deliberate stroke, earning another burst of bell-like laughter before he went back to eating. “How odd…”

Well, this was a bit of a problem. Daryl was already very fond of this peculiar creature.


End file.
